


Make Ash and Leave the Dust Behind

by warmommy



Series: If We're Gonna Die, Bury Us Alive [2]
Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Timelines, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Forced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nazis, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, World War II, implied/referenced psychological torture, post torture, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: Following their liberation from Nazi imprisonment and torture by the Basterds, Hugo and Reader are out for revenge, with more than a few secrets. As the Reader agonises and struggles to tell Hugo about the loss of their child, numerous questions arise about the nature of their relationship.





	Make Ash and Leave the Dust Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the previous installment and has come back to join Hugo and Reader as they continue this journey.
> 
> I listened to Lou Reed's Perfect Day on repeat while I wrote this, and would recommend listening to it while reading, although of course it isn't required. Link to song on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wxI4KK9ZYo
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and you can always find more @ warmommy.com!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter explore's Reader's feelings regarding her forced abortion.

They went immediately into Allied territory, and Hugo slept at your side in an actual bed for nearly three straight days. He would wake at the same times as you to eat and drink, shower, etc., because those were among the most welcome of luxuries, then go straight back to bed, and the Americans did not attempt to interfere. The physician would not allow such a thing. The entirety of his waking thoughts always centered around his little family, you, him, and his _baby_. It kept a pleasant, if small, smile on his face, and he'd think of it still, even as he put his arms around you to enter a slumber state yet again.

It seemed to be understood, between you, that your pregnancy was to remain a secret. Part of him, a large part, if he were honest, would have felt better for you to stay here, or someplace safe, but it was also understood that this vengeance would be yours as well. His arms tightened around you with renewed vigour. Within their grips, he had done his best to save you from harm, but failed miserably. Now, however, hunting them like animals in the woods, chasing them down, painting the earth with their blood, desecrating their corpses... _that_  was _his_  domain, and he had no doubt of your safety. The conditions could be better, but would be compensated for even if it cost his own life.

Oh, how he longed to feel a knife in his hands again, the cool metal warming against his skin, the sharp edge lusting after its prize, the taste of Nazi blood, Nazi flesh.

 

* * *

 

"Now, your family's been notified that you're alive," Aldo was saying, walking around you. Still haggard looking, bless your pea-pickin' heart. He had circled around the table slowly, and now he leaned against it, opposite where you sat. He pursed his lips and ground his teeth. "They're hootin' and hollerin' for your safe return 'cross the water. You've had a couple days to rest up and think about it. Before I make the call to get you reinstated into OSS duty, you gotta decide--"

"No." Your tone was final, left no room for argument, made Aldo raise his eyebrows. "I'll write to my family, or somehow pass on a message."

Aldo sighed. "One more on my team itchin' to get me some scalps is a blessing, not arguing that, but..." He sighed again as he tried to process his own words, though his mind was racing through several subroutines, attempting to solve numerous problems simultaneously. "Ms Baker, all due respect to you--big fan of your work, by the way, admire your metaphorical testicular fortitude-- _why_ don't you want to go home? You were 'dead'. If we hadn't come along, you  _woulda_  died. Soon, probably. Won't get into anything uncomfortable for you, what was done and all, but they hurt you in every possible way--"

"You don't know how true that statement is."

"--and I just wanna be _sure_ , so _why_? Can you tell me?"

You blinked at him a few times and leaned over the table, causing it to squeak under your weight as you looked him dead in the eye. “‘Vengeance is _mine_ , and recompense; Their foot shall slip in due time; For the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things to come hasten upon them.’”

Aldo got up to pace around and think, as was his wont. He also pulled out his snuffbox and sniffed a pinch up each nostril, as was his wont. "'Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd / Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.' All right. That's good enough for me, I can bend the General's ear a little bit. _They_  sure as shit don't wanna let you go. You'll do fine."

You nodded. That was good enough for you, as well. "When will we be briefed properly?"

"When you pass a physical, gain a bit of weight and colour, shit like that." Aldo reached into his bag and put a gun on the table in between you. "It ain't the exact one you had, but it's one of them Welrod Mk II thingies. I'm told you're a fan. I don't mind you usin' it as a sidearm."

You smiled dreamily and your hand seemed to move in slow motion, lifting the weapon, feeling its familiar light weight, the smooth barrel. It felt like greeting a precious friend after a long, long absence.

"Liebling," Hugo said finally, feeling quite ambivalent about seeing you handle a gun again. " _These are your people? Didn't they give up on you? You trust them_?"

" _Above all, they're giving us the perfect opportunity to pull the pillars of the Third Reich tumbling down,_ " you responded, still admiring the Welrod, still turning it and examining every angle.

"Goddamn it," Aldo groused. "Had one German speaker, now I got three. I get froggy when I don't know what people are sayin'."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem," you said, although you were sure of no such thing, and did not care, in any case.

"Mhm." Aldo's tone didn't indicate any sort of confidence in what you'd said, but he let it drop. "Well, time for Stiglitz to fuck off a while, you and me gotta get honking on that radio with the General, get you debriefed on your...previous mission."

Hugo looked at you with drawn eyebrows and narrowed eyes, but you gave him a short nod. "It's okay. Wouldn't do it if it weren't necessary. I'll link up with you as soon as I'm done."

Aldo watched the apprehension and hesitation in human form as it rose from its chair and walked slowly to the door, exiting the room; he also heard that small sigh that could be attributed to some sense of relief escape your lips.

"Nope," Aldo said, flipping the snuffbox open again and anxiously sniffing a couple more pinches. "Don't like that."

 

* * *

 

 

Of course you didn't link up with Hugo right away, as you'd said you would. You left the debriefing on stiff and shaking legs and carried yourself to the nearest bathroom, locked the door, leaned heavily against the sink. The mirror was cloudy, and not just for the dust. You stared at yourself, anyway. Still looked like shit, but it was nothing in comparison to the inside.

Pressing up against all the thirst for violence and vengeance that gripped your very soul was the presence of an absence that only grew, every day. You caught yourself before you threw up, turned on the tap, washed your face, rinsed out your mouth. Went right back to staring at your own eyes and crumbled in a silent and panicked sob of total hopelessness, loss, and despair.

It was a girl, a little girl. Far too small, but a girl. A tiny daughter, Hugo's tiny daughter. They had shown her to you, after.

You gripped your hair, pulling hard at the roots as your chest spasmed and your eyes grew wider and wider. You were gasping for air, but the empty place where she had been, which was hungry and desperate and _raging_  for what was irretrievably lost to be returned, pressed tightly against your diaphragm, against your lungs. Every breath became more shallow than the last and, hanging onto the edge of the sink again, you sank slowly to the gritty floor, which wasn't unlike the floor of the cell at all. The Welrod strapped over your shoulder could not help this. Nothing could help this.

You had recovered, for the most part, from the surgery, if one could call it that. It had not even made a mark on the outside. At least there was that, at least Hugo would not see something suspicious, but...you almost wished there was _at least_  a scar to show where she once had rested, that she had been real.

It was your recent memory of snapping viciously at the Allied physician, how violently you had refused a pelvic exam, the anger that had pulsed into fury, that helped push aside the inner void. At least for now. Slowly, you were able to stand again, to stare into the mirror again, and, when you did, you could no longer see the woman whose face was forced expressionless, or whose eyes held the sort of sorrow you could never have fathomed before. Your fingernails scraped against the ceramic as your fists curled and your grip threatened to dislodge the poorly-installed fixture.

The woman you saw in the mirror breathed evenly, smoothly, chest rising and falling. The woman you saw in the mirror had blood on her face from biting so hard on her lip. The woman you saw in the mirror was filled not with panic, not with overwhelming fear and despair, but an inner screaming comprised of seething and spite, anger and indignant ire.

You rinsed your mouth again after splashing the blood from your chin and drew yourself to full height, no longer supporting your own weight with a mere sink. Malice and enmity were the two things keeping you on two legs, keeping you upright.

Where was the room for love of anything else inside you, you questioned, gazing upon your own reflection and finally feeling a sense of recognition.

Her name was Helen, you decided. Her name was Helen, for you would rage a long, dark, excruciatingly brutal war for her.

**Author's Note:**

> You're going to reap just what you sow.
> 
> The bible verse is Deuteronomy, chapter thirty-two, verse thirty-five, and references to the previous installment.


End file.
